christina

I heard an interesting factoid the other day, or perhaps I read it. I probably read it. Sounds like something I would have picked up in Mental Floss magazine. Anyway, the article, or perhaps clever individual, said that adults, on average, have a mere 20 minute attention span. At first I was offended, thought it didn’t give us enough credit, but then I decided it was probably accurate, and maybe even generous. The point is, sometimes I am too high strung or too busy to sit down and read a novel.

I was born to be a teenager in the 1950s. The fashion, the glamour! I can see myself in neat, pleated skirts or beautiful silk-lined party dresses. Perhaps an eye-catching overcoat to fit over that carefully tailored, tweed look. Or maybe a sleek pencil skirt. OK, to be absolutely honest, I’m entirely too messy, clumsy, and lazy to pull off that tidy, accessorized look. But, hey, I can appreciate the era. Jazz music makes way for the arrival of new rock n roll pioneers…Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, and that lady-killer Elvis Presley. And the movie stars at the time! They make me swoon.

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines ‘freak’ as one that is markedly unusual or abnormal, a person or animal having a physical oddity. That being said, I love me some ‘Freak Lit’! I gobble up stories about people on the fringes of society, people who have been cast out as inferior. These books humanize freaks; they force you to identify with them and examine your own life and identity. I love the intricacies of their stories; the intimate details of their inner lives, and the beauty that is found in the grotesque (Hmm. I think I just figured out why I like reality television so much.

I have this one quirky uncle, a Trivial Pursuit kind of guy. When I was a kid he''d make me nervous by endlessly quizzing me on state capitals, our presidents, the order of the planets, or whatever he felt like I should know. He keeps up to date with current events, watches all of the movies up for Best Picture before the Oscars air, and by the end of April has already read the Pulitzer Prize winner for fiction. He''s got them all neatly lined up in perfect chronological order in a beautiful glass bookcase. And no, he''s not a librarian.